


My Bed, My Heart, My Head (Falling)

by AwkwardEqualist



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (all of the bad tags are just because it's past stuff that they have to work through indirectly), (but no one actually cheats), (except the fighting because they're arguing), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fighting, Healing, Implied Neglect, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Abuse, Personal Growth, Short One Shot, ends with fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21628456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardEqualist/pseuds/AwkwardEqualist
Summary: Billy gets home from work and regrets walking in the door because Steve is pissed. Billy's tired.*happy ending*[CW for past abuse/neglect stuff monolouged about]Based loosely off of The Killer's "Out of My Mind"
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Harringrove - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 130





	My Bed, My Heart, My Head (Falling)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StressedOutPixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StressedOutPixie/gifts).



> (CW for discussion of past abuse/neglect, romantic partners fighting, and cheating accusations. There is some alcohol involved & being drunk is mentioned, but no one gets drunk in story.) 
> 
> Based loosely off of The Killer's "Out of My Mind"
> 
> "He already knows everything he needs to know: Steve thinks he’s cheating, Steve’s scared Billy’s going to leave him, and he doesn’t want to do this right now." 
> 
> Enjoy!

The apartment was more than a blessing at first. With one bedroom and a connecting kitchen and living space, along with the shitty landlord, it wasn’t anything impressive, but it was enough because it was theirs, finally.

Finally. A place that meant everything to both of them. It was an escape and a safe haven and a fucking home, one with no slamming people against walls or fist-shaped bruises on Billy. One with no bitter words left ringing in Steve’s ears, and Steve could always trust Billy to come home.

Of course, heaven isn’t a place on earth. Every couple fights, it happens. But once you’ve got scars on your heart, it’s hard to fight yourself to see the reality of a situation. It’s hard to look at someone who you know would love you until the sun died, unconditionally, when you’re terrified that everything will crumble. 

Billy’s in therapy. He’s trying. Steve needs someone who tries, and Billy wants nothing more than to be there for him in any conceivable way. 

Those words are hard to express because one defense mechanism that Billy acquired in his hellhole of a house was to just shut the fuck up and walk away. 

Stevie, sweetheart, the light of Billy’s damn life, on the other hand? Learned that the best way to get through anything is to strike out. Any attention is better than none. It doesn’t matter if that attention is unhealthy, he’d rather get screamed at than be left alone when he’s feeling insecure. 

Which is what’s happening now. But Billy already got told off at work, by both managers, and yes, he’s exhausted because he got scheduled a double and of course, he didn’t try and switch with anybody because it’s November and he wants to have extra money to spoil his man next month. And probably to send some money to Max and maybe to her friends because Billy knows Steve’s sort of soft for them… 

And so with all of that going on, it’s just so much easier to retreat. He just got home, his jacket is barely off his back.

“What the fuck are you yelling about, Harrington?” Billy’s voice is rough when he says it.

Steve gestures to some crumpled napkin in his hand. “I just found this mixed in with your shit on the desk. Care to explain?” He’s obviously flushed from trying to not cry or possibly from just finishing crying. 

Billy brushes past him and walks into their kitchen area. “I probably ate lunch there one day, my bad for leaving trash there.” He pulls out some cold lunch meat and eats the handful. He turns around, leaning on the fridge. “My bad, okay? I’ll try to clean up after myself better. Are we done?” Billy just wants to shower and go to bed. 

Steve’s eyes squint up, but he doesn’t look directly at Billy’s eyes. Billy knows that eye contact makes him a bit nervous. 

“I don’t care about the fucking mess- that’s not the point, okay? The point is that there’s a phone number on this napkin. It’s not mine and, and you went drinking last week with your work buddies, and why wouldn’t you just throw away the napkin if some bitch wanted your number?” Steve pauses to swallow hard and finally looks Billy straight in the eye. “Are you cheating on me?”

He knows as soon as it comes out that it’s the wrong response, but it’s gut reaction, because Billy would never cheat on Steve. Steve was the first good thing that has happened to him since his mom left, and he would do anything for Steve fucking Harrington. 

But Billy laughs, a deep chuckle, one that would usually get Steve’s easiest smile to spread across his face. But Steve’s face twists and he curls up on himself, fist clenching around that stupid napkin and his arms crossing in a way that should be intimidating but actually just makes Billy feel like someone just kneed him in the stomach, because it looks like Steve’s hugging himself and he only does that when he’s scared. 

There’s nothing to be scared of here. Billy’s not going anywhere and Steve should know that by now. There’s so much history and love and dedication and so many amazing memories and promises and plans, Billy would never sacrifice this, he’d rather die. 

“Baby-”

But now Steve’s had time to coil up and snap to spit his venom in Billy’s face. 

Billy doesn’t listen to the words streaming out of his mouth, which might help in most situations, but not right now. 

He already knows everything he needs to know: Steve thinks he’s cheating, Steve’s scared Billy’s going to leave him, and he doesn’t want to do this right now. 

Right now, Steve’s temper is lost and he’s going to keep going until he can’t anymore. 

Billy sighs and opens the fridge to pull out a beer, and he knocks the cap against the counter to open it. This, of course, brings forth an onslaught of criticism about not caring about what Steve’s even saying. Billy does care. 

There’s a moment here, Billy knows. He’s really got to make this choice, right here and right now. What’s he going to do? 

There’s the obvious choice of leaving, but what kind of man would that make him, let alone what kind of lover? It’s no real option, because that would break Steve more than anything. 

What’s next? The traumas that formed his interactions as a youth intrude into his mind, but Billy would never do anything like that to Steve, not his sweetheart.

So the only real choice comes down to if he’s going to walk away, shut this conversation down, and shut Steve out, emotions, hurt, fear, all of him, or if he’s going to talk Steve off of this ledge he’s on tonight. 

And why is it Steve’s ledge? Billy knows. Everyone in Steve’s life either ignored him or left him, or both. Most of the attention Steve got as a kid, besides being popular simply for being rich, was negative. Unfair correction and harsh criticism and hardly any reassurance. Absent parents, shitty friends, and a complicated love life… Not much positivity in relationships, even though Steve just wanted someone who would be there. Just be there. 

Billy is perfectly aware that turning a blind eye to everything Steve might not even realize he’s showing Billy would be painful for both of them. Steve is everything, always on his mind.

He raises his hand slowly to cut off Steve without startling him, because Steve does startle, worse than Billy. “Listen, Steve, it’d be my fucking pleasure to talk this out with you, but this is my home, too. I’m not a criminal. I’m tired. So do you want the couch or the bed? Would you feel better if I sleep on the damn floor?” Billy scoffed and took a swig. “But don’t fucking jump me, don’t get into my face accusing me of idiotic bullshit.” 

Steve’s jaw dropped a little bit. “I. I don’t- I just want us to talk this out. I think,” he takes a shaky breath and looks at the paper in his hand. “I think I deserve some sort of explanation about it. Why you kept it.” 

Billy’s halfway through his beer and he offers the bottle to Steve. Their fingertips touch, just barely, and Steve’s hand shakes as he takes a sip. Billy thinks about taking out a cigarette but Steve gets kinda pissy about that sometimes, doesn’t want the apartment to only smell like smoke. 

“So where am I sleeping, babe?” Billy blinks slowly, still fighting the urge to shut this entire operation down, stop being patient and vulnerable. To defend himself, but against who? Steve, the only man- no, only person who’s ever loved him no matter what? 

Steve hands the beer back. “I’m not trying to kick you out or anything, I just…” he trails off and stares at the ceiling. He starts wringing his hands in front of him, but Billy’s just thanking god he’s not hugging himself anymore. “I don’t know.” 

“Okay.” Sip. “Ask a question. One simple question.” 

And Billy knows Steve. This one question will be his heart, the next will be his head. Steve’s a touchy guy, expresses it all without trying. And Billy’s grateful for that, he loves that, because he needs that honesty and that open, effortless communication. He just needs it to be expressed with a reasonable fucking tone and not right up in his face when he hasn’t done anything.

“Am I not enough for you? Do- oh, one question.” Steve reaches for the bottle and Billy gives it to him and steps forward, grabbing Steve’s shoulders gently. 

“Baby, you’re more than enough for me. I don’t want to leave, I never do. You’re enough.” The I love you is there without saying it, and Billy knows that Steve hears it because his shoulders relax and he looks Billy in the eye and takes one last drink, emptying the bottle. “Ask me another question, one.” 

Steve puts the empty bottle onto the counter and grabs one of Billy’s hands off of his shoulder. He presses that damn napkin into it. “Why didn’t you just throw it away, then?” His voice is soft and sounds a breath away from cracking, but it doesn’t. It’s steady, like his hands now. 

Billy takes the napkin and tears it into pieces. “I was drunk and out of it. I put it on the desk with my keys, I bet, and never even remembered I had it. I remember who gave it to me. Some blonde waitress at the bar, but I thought it was stupid when she did it. Only reason I didn’t toss the damn thing then was because of the guys from work. They would’a given me shit for it.” He lays the pieces next to the bottle, piled and lumped. 

Billy steps forward and puts his hands on Steve’s hips. “It’s not imp- No, okay, it is important because it matters to you, but babydoll, she’s not important, okay?” Steve’s bottom lip was out slightly, and Billy reaches up to soothe over it with the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t even realize I actually brought it home, I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry I made you feel insecure.” 

Steve swallows and looks around Billy’s face, at his lips and cheekbones. “I’m sorry I jumped on your ass as soon as you walked in.” He looks at Billy, eyes wide. “I’m sorry for not trusting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry and I love you, too.” 

Billy pulls him into a warm hug by the waist and tucks his face into his shoulder. “‘S okay, Bambi,” he whispers, and when Steve sighs, he knows it’s okay. They’re relaxing back into the normal stuff, finally. 

It’s hard to work on building up all of this stuff. It’s exhausting to constantly have to correct his first instincts to improve his mental health, but feeling Steve nose his neck, Billy knows that without a doubt, it’s more than worth it. 

Neither of them are perfect, but falling into bed and hearing a quiet giggle from Steve has Billy’s heart jumping up into his throat. His heart is here, right next to him, in this bed. Billy wraps his arms around Steve and neither of them feel awkward, and maybe that’s weird because they just fought for thirty minutes, but they’re both too passionate and too tired to try and figure out how normal people rebound from an argument, because it doesn’t matter. 

They’re falling asleep, cuddled into one another, and they’re together and their breaths are mixing and it’s all okay, because they communicated and they’re together, finally. And it’s not heaven, but it’s enough, and Billy’s final thought before drifting off completely is that maybe reality is better to live in than visions of heaven would be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading !!! Please check out StressedOutPixie's stuff!! Her writing is awesome and I appreciate her so much <3 
> 
> Also!! I love comments so hmu !!


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